Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“Where’s my dagger?”
I can’t lose track of that. First of all, it’s my favorite dagger, and I happen to be emotionally attached to it, considering that it was a gift from a once-upon-a-time friend. I even named it—Pierce, for obvious reasons.
But second of all and more importantly, it’s made of adamantine, which is only found in the Nether. If someone found it in the headmaster’s office, the Immortal Quintet will put the pieces together and begin looking for the telum here at Everbound. That would complicate my attempts to kill them off discreetly.
Crypt tips his head. “Your dagger?”
“The one you pulled out of my chest.”
That casts a menacing darkness into his expression. “That was your dagger, buried in your heart? Tell me who put it there.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where it?—“
“Doesn’t matter?
“
The Nightmare Prince vanishes for a fraction of a second. When he reappears, he’s so near that I press back against the door to put space between us. But that’s precisely what Crypt wanted, and he braces his hands on either side of me, so now I’m trapped looking up at him. Although he’s careful not to touch me, his face is so close to mine that strands of his messy dark hair tickle my forehead.
His alluring gaze has me pinned in place. “It absolutely fucking matters. You died. Twice. And I was powerless as I watched it happen.
Twice,” he adds hoarsely. “So make me a promise.”
This position, having him so near, smelling that sweet leather scent that’s all him—it makes warmth thrum through my veins and turns my mind to mush. I can’t stand that he has the ability to fluster me like this, so I fix him with a stony glare, even though my voice is less even than I’d like.
“I will not promise you anything.”
His laugh is devilish as he dips his head to lightly kiss the hair beside my temple. I can’t feel the contact, but my stomach flips.
“Oh, my dark little darling…yes, you fucking will. Right now.”
He’s never used this tone with me before. It’s treacherous and fierce. I try to shove down the illogical urge to rub my cheek against his. My stupid, confused body isn’t reacting to his proximity the way I’m used to.
I feel lightheaded. Restless.
I blame it on the fact that I now know what an orgasm feels like. My body is greedy in all the ways I’ve never experienced, but I refuse to listen to it.
“Crypt—“
“Promise me that I’ll never have to watch you die again.”
His voice breaks, and that show of emotion does something unexpected to me. It makes me want to…
reassure him.
But I can’t. Not with this, not if he expects me to be honest.
I study him as I pick my words carefully. “I don’t make empty promises. If you can’t stomach death, you should run now. It’s…part of my nature.”
His brow furrows as he puzzles out my words, and for a moment, I worry I’ve let too much slip. He’s going to figure out what I am.
But finally, Crypt leans back down and whispers near my ear, his breath caressing my neck and sending a delicious shiver down my spine that I try to hide.
“All right. Keep your secrets. Just promise to keep me, too.”
The gentleness in his voice kills me because deep down, I want that. I want to pull him closer for a kiss and forget about everything I’ve been through and everything I know will happen to me. I just want to fucking lose myself in the dream world that I know the Nightmare Prince can weave for me.
But it doesn’t matter what I want. I made a promise, so whether or not Crypt’s interest in me is genuine…I can’t be selfish. Not when so many people are relying on me.
It takes monumental effort, but I keep my poker face intact. “If you value your testicles, step away from me.”
His mouth twists up into a wistful yet flirtatious smile. “Now, darling. We both know you wouldn’t dare hurt your chances of having little nightmares running around the house one day.”
Before I can fucking unpack that, Crypt steps back and extends his arm in an offer to escort me. But the night has barely begun, and I’m already struggling with how I act around them. I need to steel my resolve, so I walk past him without looking back, knowing that, seen or unseen, he’ll follow me whether I like it or not.
Ten minutes later, I step through the massive double doors of Everbound’s vaulted two-story ballroom and gaze wide-eyed upon the societal horror to which I’m about to subject myself.
The sprawling checkered marble dance floor is dimly yet sensually lit by an array of warm mage lights. Illusionary displays of glittering magic swirl around the massive columns lining the room. Music pulses through the air courtesy of more enchantments, the bass of it just loud enough to cover much of the laughter and chatter. The fringes of the ballroom are crowded with quintets and unmatched legacies alike, all dressed to the nines as they clink champagne flutes and parade about like deadly peacocks having the time of their lives.
A complimentary bar manned by faculty members is tucked into one corner of the dance floor. On the opposite end of the room is a cascading ornate grand split staircase.
I assume the Immortal Quintet will enter over there. Immortals like themselves are bound to have a flair for theatrics.
Couples on the dance floor writhe rhythmically while others blatantly grind on each other. Others look on from the darker corners of the room, enjoying the show as they drink, chitchat, or play tonsil ping-pong with their quintet members.
For a moment, my attention is arrested by all the grinding, swaying, and PDA filling the room. I wonder if I would have enjoyed things like this in a different lifetime. Not that it matters, because I can’t help how my body reacts with a prickle of apprehension, my throat tightening and skin turning clammy.
I don’t want to get closer to all of that, but tonight is all about blending in…and keeping an eye out for the changeling.
Changelings aren’t too difficult to kill once they’re identified. The real trouble will be finding it again without the aid of my magic since I haven’t refueled it. In order to sift through other students and try to identify the changeling tonight, I’ll have to get close enough to see other people’s pupils.
I may even have to…mingle.
Ew.
I wander inside, sticking to the edge of the ballroom as I observe everything. I can sense the subtle hum of wards everywhere here—something only magic-users can sense. They’re faint, likely put in place to prevent psychics, empaths, sirens, and others from superficially influencing other legacies in such a crowded extravaganza.
Just as I realize I no longer sense Crypt’s invisible presence, the sound of glass shattering nearby draws my attention. Flutters break out in my stomach when I turn and make eye contact with two of my matches, both of them staring open-mouthed at me.
The shattering glass was because Silas apparently let his drink slip out of his hand, but he hasn’t noticed the mess. His crimson eyes stay pinned on me, dark with hunger. Baelfire is checking me out just as thoroughly, biting his lip.
Gods. They clean up nicely.
Silas’s tuxedo is pitch black and has a red rose in his breast pocket. Baelfire’s white button-up shirt is untucked, and I can’t help staring as he loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves, revealing gorgeously tanned, muscular forearms. He prowls towards me with an animalistic gleam in his golden eyes.
“Drop dead fucking gorgeous.”
I go perfectly still out of surprise when he leans forward and inhales at the crook of my neck. My cheeks warm when he groans raggedly.
“Gods, baby. You have no fucking idea how much power you have over me. I could come just from your scent alone.”
It takes effort to swallow.
Focus. Don’t be affected.
I can’t afford to get hot and bothered by anything they say tonight. I need to show them I’m not someone to fuck with ever again.
Fool me once and all that.
Only the ugly truth is that this isn’t the first time someone screwed with my head to screw with my body. To say that the one and only other time I dallied in romance ended badly would be an understatement.
Silas approaches, finally meeting my gaze as his tongue slips out to drag slowly across his lower lip. Despite the rest of his fancy getup, his normally-mussed curly hair is worse than usual. As if he’s been unable to stop messing it up.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.